Scarred For Life
by Inri the Damned
Summary: The shining, sparkling pool of dread


**Scarred For Life**

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The three children sat huddled in a corner, trying to hide from the parents who were seeking, searching. They were afraid. Their baby brother was in danger. He was too young to survive if the parents took the needles again. They had all had the needles and it had made them sick. So when the parents took them they hid. The older boy wanted to hide the baby, but he couldn't carry him and the other two were to young to worry about more then their own problems. Slowly, the parents advanced on them. Slowly, their lips moving wordlessly, as their clawed hands dropped to their sides in exhaustion, as they fell asleep.

Every day the boy went to school. His teachers were worried about him. He refused to speak to any teacher, and treasured children younger then himself. He always looked sad but refused to tell why. He feared all pointy things. On school needle day…! He asked to stay at school frequently. No one knew his number, address, anything.

That day a policeman came. He told the class how to contact them. And what reasons to contact them. The boy was fascinated. He could protect his brother. He could use one finger and move his baby brother away.

Night fell on the house. The parents started hitting their arms. That meant that soon the needles were coming out soon. And they did. One for mum, one for papa, and another one. The boy felt sick. A third needle could mean only one thing. The baby was in danger.

He leaped from his hiding spot and ran to the phone. Just one finger... and he could save his brother. Just one finger... and their problems would be over.

He dialled and waited. His mother dropped the needles with a screech of rage. The little girl ran out and jumped on them. The dreadful liquid spilled across the floor. The mother ran to the girl. The father grabbed the tongs out of the fire, cried out with pain, and heaved the burning metal across the room. It hit the boy on the face, leaving a burn down one cheek. The boy shouted into the phone and dropped it as he moved to miss a lamp.

A car pulled up, and a moment later three policemen ran in. there was screams and shouts. No one noticed the boy dragging the baby to sit with his brother and sister under the table. Suddenly a gun fired, and again. There were two screams…. then silence. The tablecloth was lifted up and the boy eyed the offered hand warily. He had not seen it before. When he was pulled out he clamped his eyes shut, refusing to open them until he was set firmly on the ground. His little brother and sister were a little to his left, alright, except his sister was wailing, a policeman was holding the baby, and to his right, slumped against the wall, were his parents. He realised someone was talking to him. He looked up. Black spots filled his vision. He blinked furiously, but the spots grew. The burn on his cheek seared with pain, his head throbbed and he felt warm and sick. The spots engulfed him and he fainted.

When he came to he was in a white room. It wasn't a hospital; it was just a white room. He looked around. He saw his brother and closed one eye to wink at him and his sister who was nearby. It took him a moment or two to realise that with his right eye closed he could only see a red light, like when you're looking at the sun with your eyes closed. He reached his hand up and felt the side of his face. There seemed to be a cloth of some kind. Someone must have seen his puzzled look for; he was told it was to 'help the burn.' Suddenly, he realised something. He sat bolt upright, and his eye searched the room. He had to find the baby. Where was he? He climbed out of his bed and crept out of the room, if people noticed him, they ignored him. He ran down one corridor, and up another. He rushed past one door, through another and yelped as he went over a banister. He didn't fall far. There was a net under every window. People ran out on to the ledge. He couldn't let them see him crying, so he looked down, gulped, and started crying again. He was high, really high. The tallest tree was way down. His stomach lurched as the net dropped a few inches and the tree came closer. Then it grew further and further away. He realised he was being pulled up. He toppled over the ledge, landing on his side. A sharp pain shot through him. He knelt over and was sick.

When he had finished he saw a flash of reflected light. A smooth oval stone that sparkled fiery red and ocean blue in the sun. It had a single hole through its tip. Other than that it was smooth. He placed trough it a piece of rope broken off the net and tied it around his neck. He stood, took a step, and gasped with pain. His leg had crushed from the fall, and the bone was sticking out. He wanted to scream, but boys were not to show pain like girls. It was hard not to though. But when his sister came, the screaming was done. Everyone came running. People shouted. Everyone was rushing to get a doctor. The boy sat, tears running down his cheek.

It was amazing how fast his leg had healed. He had to get stitches and they left a mark, but other than that he was fine. Unfortunately, his burn wasn't so clean. When he finally got the bandage taken off, everyone was amazed at how it looked. It didn't hurt, but it had made him look different. Once a beautiful young man, now he looked like he had been in a battle. Because his eyes had changed. It was as though he had been places no one could ever visit. His sister sat on the floor beside him and stroked the burn over and over, sobbing gently. A cool pain went through his cheek, one that almost hurt, but not quite. He fell asleep to its cool beat.

He took a few moments to realise where he was when he awoke, he got up, dressed, and went downstairs. For the first time he knew where his room was. There was a room with about twenty staircases leading in. And down those staircases came children. Heaps of children. Boys, girls, children from four years of age to eighteen. There were bundles of tables, and to each and every one of those tables ran the children. His brother ran straight to the food, his sister to him. She laughed at his shocked face and invited him to sit at one of the tables containing small children. He sat down quietly, but was soon laughing and talking with the others. A young teacher came up and told him he was to sit with the older boys, and fast. He took one last look at his table, and walked over to a higher one. The boys there tried to get him to talk with them, but he just bit his lip and looked down. When the morning meal finished he lingered, hoping for more toast. But a sharp pain at the back of his knees forced him down, and he was told to crawl out of the room like the 'worm you are.'

Instead, he stood, and another sharp pain on his shoulder forced him down again. As he stood this time, tears ran down his cheeks. Again he was forced down, and again, and again. All the other children had come to watch, and they were amazed. In all their lives, no one had ever taken so many canes. His sister saw what was happening and ran down the stairs. She shoved him as hard as she could. The cane was brought down on her back. Once, twice, three times. Again and again. She lay there screaming. The boy could only cry for his sister, too weak to help. Again, again, again. Slowly the screaming died down, then stoped. And the boy knew she was dead.

He cried out in pain and flung himself forward, beating at the teacher with his fists. The cane came down on the back of his head and he lay motionless. "Toss 'em out front." A gruff voice said in an absent minded manor. The boy was dragged along the floor, his back burning like millions of pools of acid. He was dragged over a step, and it was all he could do to stop himself shouting his defiance. His pool of acid sizzled, and turned into pools of ice as he landed face up in the snow. He heard a door slam. Slowly he sat up and pulled the shredded body of his sister into a piggy back, wincing with pain. But he closed hid mind to the pain and limped to a nearby forest and gently placed her under a rosemary bush. He would go back for his baby brother later.

Undercover of the night a shadow moved. It slipped through the gates and climbed the uneven stones of the house of many children, pausing to check at every window. It slipped in one and came out carrying a sleeping baby. It ran out. Nobody ever knew, nobody ever cared.

In the morning a kindly old couple woke. Their children had left the day before and they wanted them back. The lady went into a room to tidy up and cried out to her husband in joy. "The great God has given us a little child!"

The boy walked. He came to a cemetery and buried his sister next to a two year old. On the grave he placed a stone with a heart drawn on it. And there he fell asleep.

When he awoke he was on a wooden floor. The wagon gave a jolt and he almost tumbled out. Not wanting to hurt himself, he held on to some rope thoughtfully tied across. He called out. No answer. He called again. When no answer returned he sat back to enjoy the ride the best he could.

They stopped about an hour later at a small hut. A man jumped out and heaved him onto the ground. He winced and stumbled, as his legs had pins and needles. When he had the feeling back he looked around. There was an orchid to the left of the hut, a bare field to the right, and a little old woman out front. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she was drying her sudsy hands on a towel. By the way everything they did was slow and unhurried he hoped he was with a happy family at last. And out walked a boy and a girl.

The boy had flaming red hair, green eyes, and a dark tan. He walked up to him and shoved him in the chest. He said in a quiet voice that he would probably hear from a mile away "I'm John and I'm th' boss 'round here. You lay one finger on Marie and I'm gonna knock th' stuffing out o' ya." He walked around and around the boy, with an expression that clearly stated 'why the hell did you come?' Finally he said "Nope, ye don't pass." Marie, who had long, curly blond hair cut low over her eyes, which were black. She had a bracelet on either wrist, held a bouquet in one hand and a basket of fruit by her side, whimpered and John gave him a push. His arms flew up and his mouth opened wide as he took a step back, stumbled, and fell back into the pigpen. He splashed around, trying to stand up out of the slush. John laughed and grabbed Marie by the wrist. She had one short moment to call out goodbye and pick up her basket before she was dragged into the house.

The boy struggled to his feet and stepped over the bar. He screwed up his nose. He was coated in sloppy, stinking mud. He didn't know what to do. He didn't think these people would like it if he went inside covered in muck, and he knew that he couldn't take his clothes off to wash in the stream. He was tired. He moved away from the pen. Curling up near the pile of grass cuttings, he went to sleep.

And that is where the lady found him. Normally she didn't go to that part of the field, but for some reason she felt she must. When she got close the boy woke. He sat up and tried to bend his arm. The mud had dried and hardened, and it cracked at the elbow. The same happened with the other arm, and he had two mud gloves. A shadow fell over him and he looked up, shielding his eyes. Under the hardened mud and slime he turned beet red. He mumbled an apology, but she didn't seem to hear. Thinking she was deaf, he tried to stand. His legs were thickly coated and he couldn't crack it. She bent down and with amazing strength lifted him up. Under his weight the muck splintered and fell about his feet. He looked up and stared at her dress in dismay. While the males wore well worn overalls and a faded blue or red shirt, the females wore little dresses. Marie's was white with another red underneath, a red collar and two red bows in her hair. Mrs Marmee's was white with a white collar, one pink bow in her hair, and a pink dress overtop. Mrs Marmee's dress was covered in mud and her curly grey hair was clinging to it all.

She pulled him into the house and bathed him. He was ashamed. This family would probably think of him as a pig. He had been called one all his life and he detested it. He had always dreamed of washing every two days like the other children, but had only been able to once a month, if he was lucky.

He walked out of the bathroom in a pair of John's clothes. Never had he worn long pants. She picked up his holey t-shirt and shorts with a stick and tossed them out the window to the pigs.

"That'll give 'em a cosy bed. See 'ow neat pigs are? See 'ow they push yer clothes inna corna an' th' pregnant sow lays in i'?"

The boy was amazed. How could anyone in there right mind like pigs? They were dirty, untidy, smelled bad, and were altogether completely disgusting.

That night he thought about a number of things. He had almost toppled out of a wagon, been pushed in the mud, had his arm twisted back, been kicked in the shins, and a number of other things. On the other hand he had been hugged by Marie and tucked in for the first time of his life. But the thought that was on his mind as he fell asleep was about John. Why did john hate him so? Why…..

_He was back at home; his parents were chasing him, pulling out their needles. He turned to run, and saw John standing by a cliff, holding the baby. He screamed and ran. John waited until the boy was almost near enough to grab the baby; then tossed it to the parents. They both plunged a needle into it. The baby cried then went limp. They dropped the baby and then called to the boy, promising sweets. But the boy knew they were promising the same thing the baby had gotten. He stepped back, shaking his head. His foot went over the edge of the cliff and he looked back at the blank nothingness in alarm. But his alarm died as he saw a glint, reminding him that he still had a glimmer of hope. He faced forward and saw John, holding a bloodied knife. John grinning as he moved toward the boy. John grinning as he pushed the boy over the edge. John grinning as he threw the body of a small child over the edge. John grinning as the boy tumbled down, down, down… _

The boy sat up, covered in a cold sweat. John's grinning face loomed out of the darkness, then emblazoned itself in his memory. He peered into John's room. Still asleep. He crawled, shivering, into his bed. It had to mean something. He had never dreamt about his parents before. Then the first dream he had in this place was about them. Were they haunting him? No, he didn't believe in ghosts. But they had always been ghostlike. And where had he seen John before? A large, gingered haired boy, pleading blue eyes, hands balled up into fists. He was…

When they had been working a while the next day, the boy casually asked john if he knew where a cliff was. John said yeah, there was one next to a brilliant pool just off the stream. But they were forbidden to go there. The boy asked if there were any others. John looked at him, shook his head, and walked off.

The boy was working when he heard a rustle of leaves. John was back soon. The boy went back to work; hoping John would tell him where off stream the pool was to get him to talk. But reflected in the bucket that caught the milk was Marie. He turned to face her. She was worried, that was certain. And in her eyes was fear. Very well hidden, but definitely there. Some of the fear seemed to run along her arm and up his as he gripped her hand. In a small voice she said;

"I know where the pool is."

The boy let her hand drop as he stepped back. How could a small girl know the thing he most wanted?

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"The pool! Where is the pool?"

"Later" she whispered. And a moment later the dinner bell rang. Marie jumped up and ran, stumbling over the hoops in her dress. But the boy sat there for a few moments more, his head rested on the warm side of the cow.

When he did come in he was so pale, so absolutely white, that he was sent to bed. He had plenty of time to think over things, as it was early afternoon. And the boy had plenty to think about. Like why John looked at him that way before he left. And how Marie knew about the pool. And how…

He couldn't manage to get Marie to tell him about the pool, no matter what he did. First he offered her bribes, then begged, cornered her, and threatened her. But she was stronger than he thought. She said no to everything, and always found an excuse to run off. One Sunday morning, as he was getting ready for church, Marie came into his room, locked the door, and told him.

_"One year, two years,_

_You will wait,_

_Your path lies on the_

_Hand of fate._

_But below the tallest wall, _

_This is where you fear to fall,_

_The shining, sparkling, pool of dread,_

_Shall move to find your pathway dead."_

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A young man stumbled sightlessly through the overgrown brush. The patter of feet behind him urging him on. His life depended on this one last stretch of land. As he darted out into the open, he kneeled over, blinking in the bright sun. It took only moments for his eyes to get accustomed to the light. When they did he took a quick look around. He was trapped. The hunters on one side, a cliff face to the other. And then he was surrounded by bush. There was a crystal clear pool. And by the pool were two rotten carcasses. The smaller one obviously had its throat slit from the markings on its neck. The other one had a gemstone around its neck. It was the stone that caught his attention; it was oval in shape, perfectly smooth except one hole in its tip.

**So where are my reviews? No, in case you can't tell, this is actually my story. I wrote it in year seven because I was bored. :) It just shows how sad I am. But this means I have no need for disclaimers, or anything. I guess I'll put on some more original works. Oh, and if you think it's selfish of me to post my own work, then you can consider it a fic for... AU Harry Potter. It's Remus in a different life, and not lycanthropic. But that is only if you absolutely need it, because that's not how it's intended. So, anyway, review! You get a cookie! Two, even, because the book peoples never like my stuff.**

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